


What kind of woman are you? A five women of Sherlock fic

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good question.  Set midway through Series 3.  Rather spoiler-y in bits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What kind of woman are you? A five women of Sherlock fic

**Mrs. Hudson**

Mrs. Hudson watched herself in the mirror between her foundation and her blusher. Sometimes it was hard to remember who she was, or had been so long ago, before she owned a pair of rubber gloves (for cleaning at least).

Being married to a cartel boss had its advantages. Or, more properly, having been married to a cartel boss. She owned a very nice house in a prime area of London, and could afford to have an empty apartment and to rent to Sherlock for nearly nothing. Poor Sherlock.

He could be a dear boy, but it wasn’t really decent the way he enjoyed his murders. Thank goodness he had been able to get her husband convicted and executed. He had not been a forgiving man, and she would have been in some difficulties. What with the embezzling she had been doing. And the affair. All of them, really. That was the problem with superficial marriages. Or one of the problems.

Now if only that nice John Watson hadn’t gone and married himself a spy. She could tell one of those a mile off, ever since she had an affair with one of those FBI fellows.

 

**Mary Watson**

She had been terrified that John Watson would stop loving her, stop liking her even. But she should have known that he would forgive her, would destroy the evidence of the horrible person she had once been. He was simply that sort of bloke. No wonder she loved him. She loved him, really she did, and she hoped she deserved to be with him. 

And, of course, it was endearing that he thought he had destroyed her secret past, as if burning up a thumb drive was enough. He was so adorable.

It was a real shame that Mycroft Holmes knew exactly who she was and what she had done. No wonder he hadn’t come to the wedding.

 

**Molly Hooper**

Molly knew that something must be wrong with her. No normal woman would ever be so obsessed with affection for someone like Sherlock. A man who could flog the corpse of a lovely older man. A man who seemed to have no feelings at all.

A man who could fake a romantic attachment the way he did with that awful Janice or Janine or Janey or whatever her name was.

No normal woman would have slept with James Moriarty, particularly not when he was pretending to be gay. Not that he had been very good. Tim--or was it Tom?--had been much nicer. Dreadfully dull but nicer, and much better in bed.  Much better everywhere really.

Ah well, perhaps being normal was overrated. Sally Donovan had mentioned that DI Lestrade commented on her Christmas dress. No normal woman would ever fall for him. But he was undoubtedly a nicer choice than Moriarty or Sherlock Holmes. And not at all stupid.

Perhaps that could be enough.

 

**Sally Donovan**

Anderson had turned out to be a rather disappointing lover. Married men always were. Not that she had any other experience that way. But her mates had said as much.

She tried to be content, now that she had learned her lesson about the freak. She had a good job, a good boss, a good life, generally speaking. If only she had better luck with men. They tended not to like the hard edge.

That DI Lestrade was a bit of a looker. Lovely really. Too bad he had a thing for Molly Hooper. And his ex wife. 

It would have been easier if she could have thought of Molly as a jumped up tart. Of course, she couldn't. After all, there were very few gals willing to have a nice chat about corpses and coagulation times over an after-hours beer.

 

**Anderson**

What?! This is a five women of Sherlock fic! What the *&^% am I doing in a Five Women fic? 

You people really give me a pain.


End file.
